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everything's gotta burn to get back to its purest state;

all the best has yet to be laid to waste

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[rl] everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend
even if i wanted to.
[Sylar had to execute his plan perfectly. First he had to wait until Friday, which was a trial considering how he'd rather just hop back to Claire's world (His? Was it really his anymore?) and grab her any old time.

But he told her Friday, so he waited. Besides, she had to appreciate the humor of it. Even if she pretended not to when he sent her the video.

Next was waiting for the perfect moment to "borrow" Spike's world-hopping device. Swiping things from his roommates wasn't always easy, but he'd learned to be sneaky and subtle about it. (Or at least, he thought he did.)

Then it was a matter of finding Claire. Luckily, she was in Costa Verde. Easy as pie. Pie she'd soon be baking for him.

In the middle of his house-wide search for Claire, Miss Moppet found him, pouncing on his shoe. It was almost disappointing to see that she was slowly but surely growing up from her original kitten size. Picking her up off the ground, Sylar opted to wait on the living room sofa while entertaining the cat on his lap. Claire would reveal herself sooner or later.]

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[Because Sylar is distracted by ~all the love in his heart~ and Claire might never be able to go home otherwise, she actually succeeds for the first second time in her life. He only has time to make a vaguely shocked expression before he slumps forward, temporarily dead.]

[ she heaves an exhale of surprise when she feels the knife meet its mark and bury in his spine. her hands stay rooted to it for a minute in disbelief, then she slowly moves them away and lets him slump forward, stepping back some and looking grim. it takes a moment, but then she looks at spike. ]

Got your worldhopper thing?

[He pulls out the lighter, looking a bit sad a second before he dashes it.] Got it, luv. [Spike's getting up, dropping a hand to her shoulder and then they're in Santa Verde. He winces--it is still daylight--but nothing happens. Different dimension thing, it gets him every time.] You alright?

[ she's visibly distracted for a minute, because it's never easy to get used to the time/space-warp deal. when she looks back at him, the distraction seems to persist at first. ]

I've had better days. [ but as she hesitates for a moment, that distraction turns to a stern, grim resignation. ] You're gonna pull it out as soon as you get back, aren't you? [ it comes across like an accusation. ]

[He tips his head to the side, confused a second.] Is that how I bring him back? [Oh wait, that was a question for him first.] What else would I do with him?

You could always do the world a favor and burn it. [ bitter? not at all. ] He's obviously not all that reformed if he's still going all psycho kidnapper! He's just a liar. And when he snaps again like he did with Elle, guess whose fault it'll be?

You think I should kill him. [There's no emotion in his voice, he's just having a hard time following Claire right now.] I should've...

I'm sorry.

[ claire is being highly unfair right now, but she can't help it. she's emotional. and when she's emotional, she gets biased and violent and vengeful. it's a fatal flaw, but that's not gonna stop her. there's an obvious effort towards keeping her tone even instead of letting her emotions run away with her. ]

Did he ever tell you? What he did to me. What he did to all of those people. Everyone that he's hurt -- and he's not sorry for a single one. The only thing he's sorry for is that people see him for what he is.

You're probably right. [It's all he says for a long moment, patting his pockets for cigarettes.] And you have every right, bein' mad at me. Stake me where I stand, if that's what you want.

Or you could sit down with me and I could tell you a story.

I'm not going to stake you. [ For starters, Willow would be mad. On top of that, she really does believe Willow's explanation about Spike's redemption and seeing him want to give Sylar a chance instead of just being evil with him kind of hammered that in. Made it feel more real. ] ... What kind of story?

[He sits down in the grass, gesturing for her to follow.] Surreal, having the Sun on my face like this.

[ With a sigh, she moves to sit beside him, getting comfortable and flopping back onto her back. ] It doesn't hurt?

[Spike shakes his head, stretching out beside her.] Different dimension, different rules.

Maybe you should seriously consider a cross-dimension move. It'd do wonders for your tan. [ She pauses, looking conflicted for a minute, then fixing him with a resigned look. ] If you're thinking this is gonna distract me, you're wrong. I want him dead, and that's not going to change. Not ever. If you won't do it, I will. This isn't the first time I've killed him.

Which brings us to our entertainment for the evening. [He's propping up his head, fingers laced underneath as he levels her with a look of his own.] The year is 1777, the city of New York. Nikki Wood, a slayer. [A look of unbridled pain and regret passes over his eyes, but he goes on.] I killed her, for the reputation. For this coat, in fact. Or one just like it, the original was ruined. [He takes a deep breath, looking back to the sky.]

2003. Sunnydale. Robin Wood. Nikki's son. He tried to kill me, not that I can blame him. Did kill his mum in cold blood. But we worked it out, had a drink. I told him about my mum. We saved the world together.

I look at Sylar and I see me. I look at you. [He looks back at her.] You're his hope, Claire. You're his Buffy. It might be creepy and you may hate him--you'd be bonkers not to. But that's what I see. Can't help what I see.

Edited at 2011-05-03 04:02 pm (UTC)

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